The Ethnography
by annskies
Summary: Kagome must perform an ethnography (a cultural case study) for her freshman writing course. The stipulation on the assignment is that she must observe and become a part of a group of strangers.
1. The Assignment

A/N: I'm a little impatient, so I'm gonna send this one out into the ether right now. Didn't feel like waiting until I got a couple of pages done.

Chapter 1

It was the second semester of my freshman year at college. My first class of the first day, which should have been the easiest class, would turn out to be the one that will up most of my time. This class- ENG105, also know as 'how to write for those that have never picked up a pen'-should have been a blow off course, and I guess it was. But, I made more work for myself.

In ENG105, the English grad students take over a section each and are allowed to center it around a topic of their choosing. As mine handed out the syllabus that morning, I found out my section's topic was 'truth', and somehow analyzing a number of short stories for the deeper meaning was how we were to unearth it. I scanned further down the sheet of paper and stopped at one word. What was an 'ethnography'? Well, whatever it was, at least I didn't need to figure that out until the end of the semester.

...or, maybe not. The next words out of the grad student's mouth was "And if you look down at the bottom of the syllabus, you will see that I expect a 12 page ethnography due the last day of classes. It's basically a study of a small group of people and their culture. These sheets that I am handing out will explain in more detail. I also included some examples to help you out. Now, I don't want you reporting on the people you already know. In one of the examples I gave you, there was a man who posed as a student at Rutgers University for a couple of months to study the culture of students in a particular dorm. I want you to introduce yourself to a previously unknown set of people. Join a club or team or something... I want you to start thinking about this now because you will need to have your research completed by April..." She continued talking, but I tuned her out. I was sitting there in a state of shock. I have heard of making friends for money or to get ahead at work, but who has ever said 'I need to make friends so I can finish my homework assignment'? Crap.

Now I wished I signed up for the section that met an hour earlier, or maybe another day of the week. I'm sure no one else is going through all this work. I'll have to start observing people on a regular basis week after week. Who has time for that? Then my cynical side pointed out that everyone else is probably going to report on the people they already know anyways. This would be the easy way out.

Unfortunately, the easy way out didn't sit well with me. I would feel dirty and horrible. Damn that honest streak in my character. It causes more pain than good. So, it was settled: I would do the assignment correctly, but have free reign to bitch about it as often as I liked. After all, it was my right to bitch if this monstrosity of an assignment was forced upon me taking up my free time. I will start by complaining to my roommate, Yuka, once I get back to the dorms...


	2. Homework

A/N: Long time inbetween updates. It'll be a habbit. 

Chapter 2 

It was days later when I was passing a corkboard in the student union on the way home from classes. A really neat sketch on a bright orange advertizement caught my eye. It was just a guy leaning on a wall with a smirk on his face, but the lines of the drawing were sharp and coarse. It kind of reminded me of a piece I saw of "Piano Man II". The text to the left of sketch advertized amatuer artwork on display at a coffee shop downtown. I've never heard of this place before. But, considering that I have been at this school for only one semester, it is not that surprizing. Upon deciding this would be a good place to chill and procrastinate for a while, I went to my dorm to grab some textbooks before heading out. I needed to do at least a little bit of homework so I didn't waste the whole evening. I saw my sketchbook on my bed and grabbed that, too. It would give me something to do while I people-watched. 

I was walking down a street filled with bars, clubs, and ethnic restaurants. According to the printed out directions from mapquest, the coffee shop called 'The UnderGrounds' should be two blocks ahead and on the left. It took an hour to walk here, and I spent half of that time looking behind my shoulder for axe murderers wishing to kill me. It always seems that whenever one is reminded that they are a 'poor defenseless girl', one is also reminded of all the forensic science shows of derranged men hacking those defenseless girls into tiny pieces. 

The slightest sound would make me jump, and the loud motor noise to my right was no exception. I turned my head to see a shuttle bus run by the university across the street. Damn. I walked all this way when I could have taken a quick 10 minute bus ride. I gave myself a mental slap in the forehead. I knew that the shuttle's end destination was the mall and that it would stop at random restuarants and movie theaters along the way, but I didn't know this was one of the stops. Well, on the bright side, I gave my neck a workout by looking over my shoulder every 5 minutes... 

I found the door to The UnderGrounds a block later and walked in. Hefting my bag more securely over my shoulder, I headed toward the counter. There, stood a young man with dark hair. He looked like the typical computer science major at my school due to a semi-scruffy appearance and long hair. He wore a black t-shirt of some tv show or movie I had never heard of, and he had two piercings - a ring through the side of his lip, and a spiky stud through the indented skin where his lower lip and chin met. He could definitely pass as a computer geek. Or, maybe a scary science geek that spends his time in the research labs figuring out how to grow giant cherries or make snow in the summer... Except, he wasn't pasty enough. He looked like he spent too much time outside to belong to that lot. "May I help you?" he aked. 

"Ummm..." I realized I was staring at him like an exotic zoo animal. I quickly looked up at the menu above the counter for choices, but did not recognize any drinks up there except for 'coffee' and 'tea'. "I'll have a small coffee, please. Umm, by the way, do you guys have an art exhibit here often?" 

"Yeah, about every month or so. The themes change each time. This month's is charcoal sketches, last month's was photography, and the month's before that was watercolors." He handed me the cup of coffee. 

"Neat!" I went riggid. Did I just say 'neat'? I said thanks while nodding to the cup, and abruptly turned from the counter, heading toward an empty couch with my face to the floor. What was I thinking? Who says 'neat' anymore? I sounded like a kid from 'Leave it to Beaver'. 

I took a deep breath to push back my akwardness, and opened my bag to do some homework. The mellow music playing over the loud speaker mixed with the white noise of the gigantic coffee machine was actually comforting to hear as I went through my Geology problems. The music actually kept me entertained and lowered my stress levels from where they would normally be if I was working in my room. I would have to come back here more often for study sessions... 

After Geology was complete, I started on English and dug out the ethnography assignment and handouts. I skimmed down the assignment sheet, reading the directions for conducting a subcultural case study. Apparently, I would need to find new people to hang around with (spy on). They have to be some part of a group, whether they are part of a team, work at the same place, or are all friends in some click. I will have to take notes on what they do and say, and will have to write a paper on one aspect of their 'culture', most preferably something behavioral. Fair enough. I like this place. Maybe I can find some interesting people to spy on around here. I looked around the cafe, and saw three young girls gossiping quite loudly while jumping in and out of their seats as if their bodies would not let them sit still for more than a minute at a time lest they implode. They looked like they just started high school. What would they be doing at this shop at 4 in the afternoon? I started looking out the window for a school. 

"Looking for something?" The deep voice bemused at my actions startled me out of my wits. Like in all situations when caught off guard, my whole body jumped, causing my shin to bash into the coffee table near the sofa. I immediately fell onto the cushions clutching my leg. I looked up at the man who caused me so much pain (or maybe that was my clumsiness, but it made me feel slightly better to blame him for the shooting pang traveling up my shin bone). 

He was wearing a short white bussing apron around his waist. "Is something interesting out there?" he asked as he leaned over the back of the couch and looked out the glass. 

"Oh, ummm, I was just looking for a nearby school." I was staring at the back of his head. His dark hair was barely long enough to put in a tie and the inch-long stub at the base of his hairline was sticking straight out horizontally. 

He turned and stood. My attention was caught by the metal in his ears - two in one ear and one in the other. Piercings must be pretty popular around here. "That's an interesting thing to do. Is this a hobby of yours?" His face scrunched playfully. 

I forced a laugh. "Not usually. I just saw some schoolgirls over there and thought maybe one would be around." 

He nodded and pointed towards the back corner of the shop. "There's one over there that's about a 15 minute walk from here. They come in every day when school is out. Like clockwork. I just wish they would either become mute... or drink more mochas. At least the increased cash flow would make it worth my while to hear them squeal. You know, one time when the first started coming here, I heard one of them scream like she fractured her arm. So, I raced over to assist as any red-blooded man would do. Turns out her nail polish was scratched. I stopped wooing them after that. Crazy girls aren't worth it. I have standards. They are low, but they do exist." 

I nodded in comprehension. Maybe making them the subject of my ethnography was not brilliant after all. I would have to befriend them, and I don't think my stomach could take it. This was a great place for schoolwork, though. It would be great to have a solid excuse to come here every week. I sat down and started looking around for more subjects. 

"Oh yeah, are you finished with your coffee?" I nodded. 

"By the way, ummm, what is your favorite drink? I'll make it my next order." I'm so clever. I'll know what's good to buy without looking like an idiot. Instead, I would be a quircky girl. 

"A hot chai latte with soy." My face scrunched up in confusion. 

"You like soy milk better thank cow's milk?" 

"I wouldn't know. I've always been a vegan." 

"Oh. Nevermind." Moving on, new topic. Ummm... "Well," Uhhh.. "I think I'll go try that drink..." 

He smiled warmly and nodded to the couner. "Sango over there can take your order. In fact, SANGO! GET THIS GIRL A SOY CHAI!" 


	3. Doodling

A/N: Yay for reviews! You guys rock: )

Chapter 3

It was early evening, and I was still at the café. My sketchbook was open, and I was doodling. I was inspired by the charcoal drawings on the back wall. It was amazing how different people can bring the same medium into different styles. There were soft, and intimate portraits, dark foreboding fantasy scenes, abstract representations of who-knows-what, and classic lines of realism that made you think twice whether what you were looking at was really drawn, or whether it was a cleaver PhotoShop imitation generated from a real photograph.

So, now I was doodling my name over and over again, trying to see how many ways it could be done. So far 'Kagome' has made appearances in typewriter print, big bubble letters, dark gothic shiny spiked metal, and climbing ivy. I sighed. Maybe I should try for cubism or Picasso-esque modernism next? Eh, maybe I'll take a brake for the sake of 'inspiration'.

I picked my hot soy chai latte off the coffee table and sipped. Damn, it was good. I'm glad I asked that bus boy what his favorite drink was. It ranked up there with hot chocolate, and was much better than egg nog. After taking a few more sips, I began to people-watch hoping one of the groups in the crowd would be the subject of my English project. No one was particularly interesting. People were quiet and minding their business.

Except for the new guy who just walked in the door. He had long dark hair, two piercings, and that strange t-shirt. This was the same guy who waited on me earlier this afternoon. Walking straight to the counter, he yelled "Hey Sango, Miroku! I've got a few extra tickets to Waterstreet!" He held up the tickets as he reached his coworkers, the girl who gave me my soy chai, and the bus boy who suggested it. I wondered what Waterstreet was. A club? Concert hall? Maybe it was a theatre? Of course, I would never know because his voice dropped to normal levels, and I couldn't hear a damn thing from the other side of the room. All I knew was that who or what ever was there must have been wonderful. Sango's face lit up like Christmas morning, and Miroku's jaw dropped as if his friend just did the impossible.

My mind started flashing odd pictures of the coworkers in this 'Waterstreet' place, and I could not pass up drawing the coffee shop employees in uniform at a posh theatre watching opera. It was too amusing to pass up.

……………………………………………..

I finished the shading of the drawing in my sketchbook, and stretched. The sun had set a while ago, and it was pitch dark outside. Crap. I quickly looked at my watch. Double crap. It was 10:34pm. I needed to get back to campus. I also needed food. I quickly gathered up my stuff into my backpack, paid for a sandwich at the counter, and headed out the door. I crossed the street to the bus stop to head home. It was a really fun evening at the Undergrounds. I will have to go there again. If nothing else, I will need to satisfy my cravings for chai lattes.

……………………………………………..

A/N: Yeah, there will be a scene change after this so, I thought this would be a good place to cut to the next chapter. I know this chappie wasn't long, and didn't have much action, but wait till the next one. Oh, and just fyi: I'm beginning to have lots of ideas for this story, but not in chronological order, which is a challenge. I need to get over the introductions to get to the stuff jumbled in my head.


	4. breaking the ice

A/N: Ok, I don't know why the beginning of this story is so difficult for me. X P

Chapter 4

It was Saturday afternoon, and I found myself at the Undergrounds again. In the past three weeks, I have spent 17 of those days at the couch by the window. I have spent every one of those 17 days studying for my classes, like any good student would and should; however, once the work was completed, the sketchbook would come out. I couldn't stop doodling and scribbling, which was odd because I haven't touched that thing since junior year of high school. I used to draw every day. It was a stress relief and creative outlet all in one. But then, one day I stopped. I put away my book, and didn't touch it again. But, I couldn't throw it away. Maybe it was the pack-rat in me, but I had to hold onto it. Maybe I would have the urge to draw again. Maybe I would want to look through it. Maybe I would want to watch it collect dust bunnies under my bed. Who knew? I just couldn't abandon it.

So, here I was over a year later picking up my sketchbook again and drawing feverishly. If I kept up my current pace, I would need a new book by the end of the month. This café was a great inspiration. The decor was theatrical with draperies separating areas of the large square space. Candelabras sat on tables and art pieces from the community monthly exhibits were packed on the walls squeezing in-between candle sconces. Electric lamps laid on end tables, and pendant lights hung from rafters concentrating on the ordering and serving counter in the center of the room, and became more sparse towards the walls. The pendants were tricky things. Every other lighting object in the shop was uniform, but the pendants were mix and match. It was as if the owner of the shop went to the clearance bin in the back of the lighting store where every design came in pairs of one. But the mismatch worked. The room looked more eclectic than a muddle of styles, and the lights -- they were gorgeous. The glass shades were brilliant colors and their shapes had wonderful lines – sleek and slender, plump and round, or twisted and asymmetrical. I would catch myself staring at them so much that I finally broke down and made a 'pendant' section of my sketchbook. Pathetic, no?

The décor of this shop evoked creativity. They were just things, but my imagination went into overdrive, especially with characters. Because the heavy draperies reminded me of theatre curtains, they would draw to mind the plays and stories that I knew and loved, and would cause me to imagine new tales. The characters and scenes could be from the Victorian era, the faerie neverworld, the dark gothic otherworld, or maybe the odd sci-fi Egyptian world if the ancient Egyptians lived a modern technology-saturated time. In short, my imagination ran away with me.

I was in one of these drawing frenzies when I felt someone plop on the sofa next to me. He leaned over my notepad, and I looked up. It was Miroku. "Hey doll. Whatcha drawin' this time? Super-atomic robots from Mars?"

I didn't know whether to giggle or be perturbed. I opted for the former. "No, from Neptune. Didn't you hear that it's the new Mars?" I can't believe I was so casual with him. It just came to my head, and I blurted it out. Maybe saying hello to him practically every time I am here has created a kind of familiarity. Either way, the one emotion I did not feel was shyness.

He sighed dramatically. "Hey, you _do_ have a sense of humor!" A laugh came from his throat, and then he continued. "Yeah, well it is difficult to keep up with the super-atomic lifestyle." A moment later, his mood shifted and the grin on his face evaporated. He sighed again. "I'm so bored. People aren't drinking coffee fast enough. I don't have anything to pick up."

I didn't know what to say. When in doubt, show your empathy for the situation. My face mussed up and I said, "I'm sorry."

"Well, you could be making more of a mess. Or, buying more coffee. Want a mocha?"

"Umm, maybe in a bit. I still have most of my cappuccino left."

"Then I guess I'll just make idle chat with the customers. You know, 'improve the customer satisfaction' and such."

"Ok… Hey, by the way, do you know of any good theaters around here? Like play theaters, not movie theaters. I'm not from around here…"

"Yeah." He pointed to the back of the café. "The Geva theatre, two blocks over there, has the classics like Shakespeare along with the modern stuff like Closer."

"I thought that was a movie…"

"It was a play first. And, the Corner Cabaret on Second Street has smaller shows. Up 'till last week they were playing _I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change_. I don't know what they are doing now though." Then, his eyebrows mushed together and his jaw dropped as if he was about to sneeze from thinking too hard. "Aw, crap. That reminds me that I forgot to put up the fliers for the campus play today. Mervin is going to be pissed."

"Campus? You go to school?"

"Yeah, I go to the Garland School of the Arts. I'm in a play this semester. Was supposed to head up advertising, and apparently am doing a bang-up job. Hey…" He looked down at my backpack. He always sees me with it, pulling out books and folders. "You go to school, right?" I nodded. "Where do you go?"

When asked a question, the only thing I could do was answer, no matter how personal. Would he know where I lived from this information? Maybe. Would he stalk me? Who knows. But I had to answer. It was what was expected from a question. "Briggate University."

"Excellent. You wouldn't mind posting a couple of fliers around there, would you? It'd only take a second. And, for the trouble, the next drink is on me." Before I could answer, a stack of bright yellow paper was in my hand. I nodded. "Thanks doll."

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End file.
